Brother Dear
by Chi Kookies
Summary: Grace Jackson is starting to feel out of place in her family of prodigies. Her twin sister seems to beat her out in everything. Her older brother can bend anyone to his will. Grace's only joy was Timothy, her bubbly brother. But lately, Timothy's sugariness is getting rarer as he falls into a depressed state. Now Grace has to learn the most confusing concept of all: family love.
1. The Problem with Siblings

Waaaah! I'm sooo excited to be publishing this story! It's the first one in a long line of 'em. It's soon to be a long line, at least.

Where are my manners? I'm Chi Kookies (obviously), and this is my first fic! I'm stoked for it because I've been dreaming about publishing a story for _years_!  
>I don't have anything else but this to say… or write?<p>

~Enjoy the story and tell me what you think!

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><p><em>Chapter One<em>

**The Problem with Siblings  
><strong>

* * *

><p>"<em><strong>Today you are you! That is truer than true!<br>There is no one alive who is  
>you-er than you!"<br>**_

_**~Dr. Suess**_

* * *

><p><em>Chirp-Chirp-Chirrrp!<em>

_Chirp-Chirp-Chirrrp!_

_Chirp-Chirp-Chirrrp!_

"Ugh…"

Good morning reader. I'm going just come out and say it: I hate my stupid bird alarm clock.

_Chirp-Chirp-Chirrrp!_

Who the hell even _has _a bird alarm clock?!

_Chirp-Chirp-Chirrrp!_

Well, me, I guess.

As my retarded alarm clock went off for the trillionth time, my equally retarded sister, Zoey, bounced on the top bunk.

"Grace, turn that thing off," Zoey mumbled, sounding even sleepier than me.

"No." I wiped the spittle off my face, flipped around, and turned the alarm clock off anyways. The stupid thing was bothering me too. I flipped onto my stomach and closed my eyes, trying to grab at least ten more minutes of sleep. Don't worry, it's cool. The clock went off for Zoey, not me. She's gets to school early for her yoga with Coach Jones. She is such a teacher's pet. I hope when she crosses the street, she gets bit by the Muller's pitbull. And then run over by the ambulance Mr. Muller would've called.

I loathe Zoey.

No, I'm not having a bad morning; I've been like this for a while now.

Let me explain myself. Let me _fully_ explain myself.

My full name is Grace Anastasia Jackson. Don't ever call me by my middle name; it's dumb because I'm nowhere near a princess. Or was she a duchess? I'm the daughter of Percy and Annabeth Jackson, the Olympic swimmer and architect. Really, it's just Dad that's famous, Mom is mentioned because… Well, she's my mom.

I have three other siblings: My twin sister, Zoey, and my brothers, PJ and Timothy. I'll start with Zoey. We aren't identical (Thank god.) twins, but we do share a lot of features. We both have blonde hair and gray eyes. We both have the same nose and chin. The similarities end there. My hair is long and wavy, whereas hers has been in a pixie-cut for the last two years. Her eyes are _way_ lighter than mine, so she kinda gives off this ghostlike vibe. Actually, it's more like a rainbow/lollipop/workaholic/ghost vibe. We're about the same height, so maybe we have more similarities than I thought. She's also good at _everything_. It's not even funny. How can she be better than me when we have the same DNA? It's screwed up. Zoey's especially better than me in the arts. Music, drawing, dancing, you name it. She's better.

Except for writing, that's my forte.

PJ is a 'patchwork kid', which means he looks like Mom and dad together. Everyone calls him PJ even though his real name is Patrick James. An ex-girlfriend of his used to call him Jamie. They were together for two days. One day to makeout, the other to breakup. The idiot is probably breaking hearts as I tell you this at the university he's in attending in Chicago.

Boys… Can't live with them, can't live without them.

Timothy isn't like that though. He has the cutest black hair, and the swirliest green eyes you'll ever see. Unlike PJ, this older brother doesn't have any intention of bending innocent people to his will.  
>Timothy is just plain…<p>

Timothy is just plain sweet.

Period.

Now, if I've told you enough about my dysfunctional family, I'm gonna try to catch up on what little sleep I have left.

…

…

…

_Chirp-Chirp-Chirrrp!_

…

I hope that bird gets run over by an ambulance truck too.

* * *

><p><em>One more block, Grace! You can do it! <em> I chanted to myself, racing around the bend, jumping over a skateboard, and landing on my feet just in time to greet the mailman with a smile.

Ah, the joys of running like a drunk to get to school.

I slowed my pace to a walk and checked my watch. 7:58. I had seven minutes. I sped up again. Fieldwaters Academy was just in front of me. I was close enough to hear the warning bell chime and smell the greasy cafeteria food. My mind flashed back to the last time I was late. I spent the entire three hours scraping gum out from under the desks for detention. I shuddered.

_C'mon, Grace! You don't want detention again for being late, do you?_

I closed my eyes and charged forward, like a bull seeing red. I shifted to the side at the last moment so my shoulder would take most of the blunt force when it connected with the door.

BAM!

Well, I made it.

…On my butt.

Thankfully most of the student body just ignored me skidding on the floor. I scooched myself to the side of the hall and brushed myself off.

Yup, just another day in the life of Grace. Just another day… Just another day…

I guess that means I'm getting bullied today too.

Yes, I, the amazing Grace Jackson, am being bullied. Sasha and her cronies, Icy and Hilary, have been pulling crap with me for the last few weeks. First it started off small; weird looks and faces, but now it really starts to hurt. It's the little things that hurt, because it's the little things that really define you. Those kinds of people, that make you feel horrible about yourself _because _of yourself, are disgusting.

Period.

Maybe now, dear reader, you can understand why I'm so pessimistic, and just the opposite of optimistic sister. I wasn't always like this though…

I haven't told anyone about it. I don't intend to either. I know you're supposed to if this kind of thing happens, but… This is _my_ problem, and _I_ should be able to take care of it alone, right?

Right?

The late bell chimed above my head, making me dizzy with an odd combination of gloomy relief.

"I should get to class," I murmured, eyes half-lidded and alert. Sasha and her favorite idiots were out of sight. I zoomed down the hall, ignoring the cries of exasperation from other students. I didn't stop until I was outside of  
>Mrs. Waldorf's class.<p>

_How I love English class. _I mused eerily, my face reflecting my thoughts. I turned the knob, and stepped inside.

"Miss Jackson, I was beginning to wonder if you've skipped class." Mrs. Waldorf stated dryly from the chalkboard, her piercing blue eyes stared in my gray ones.

I just turned my eerie smile towards her and walked over to an empty seat.

_I truly do love English class.  
><em>

* * *

><p>"Merciful Heavens, please grant me the power to lug this heavy shit to my locker!" I prayed. Mr. Cummins had been especially generous with math homework today. Sighing through my nose, I yanked open the door and stuffed the paperwork inside.<p>

May old Mr. Cummins get run over by an ambulance.

Speaking of getting squashed by heavy machinery, Zoey is still alive and well. I watched her sourly; she was chattering idly with her diva friends. Probably talking about which boy had the cutest butt in seventh grade. My mind seared with pure hate. Just looking at her makes me angry nowadays.

_Get your mind offa that traitor!_ My somewhat calm inner self coaxed._ You've got bigger priorities!_

I sighed through my nose and trudged down the hall to art, one of my favorite classes. Ms. Viina is real lax. As long as you're doing something related to art, you pass. She still takes her work seriously though. At least I think she does. Does dressing like an army cadet make you serious?

In fact, I was actually happy, even after I saw that sister of mine. The day had gone better than usual, and I didn't fail my Civics quiz.

"Hey girls, look! It's little Gracie!" A cruel voice cried out among the loud hum of locker doors shutting and pimply teens flirting.

Sasha.

Damn it. Can't I just have one Sasha-free day? I started to panic, where can I hide? Where?!

_Between those girls! Between the girls!_

I did as my mind commanded and squeezed myself between two clown-faced gossips leaning on their lockers, eliciting two cries of protest. I pressed myself to the cold metal; my head down. My eyes started to burn with angry self-pity.

_Please, just forget about me. Just forget I exist. Please._

"Aww, look at her! She's so pathetic, isn't she, Icy?" Sasha was being as loud and obnoxious as possible, drawing unneeded attention to me.

The two girls I was hiding between nodded to each other and moved out of the way. Now I was out in the open. Why won't things go my way around her? Deciding to make a break for it, I tried to take off through the crowd of ever-increasing students.

The key word here is _tried__._

Hilary, I think, reached out and grabbed my arm. "You can't get away from me!"

Hilary pushed me to Icy, who then pushed me to Sasha. They kept shoving me back and forth, acting like it was a game. I think I heard them laughing like hyenas. I don't know or care. I _do_ know that I was too immersed in my thoughts to listen.

_I'm like a human kickball. I __**am**__ pathetic. _My once happy demeanor vanished. My eyes were shut so tight they hurt. I could feel hot tears stream down my face.

And you know the worst part, dear reader? I saw her.

Zoey was standing right there, unable to speak up to defend her own flesh and blood. She just stood there, gawking with the rest of them.

She was just staring at me getting pushed around. Hot, bubbly, frustration exploded from me like a volcano pouring lava.

_Alright, you wanna play that game? I'm the champion, you wannabe. Cold shoulder is my jam._ As we all know, all _good_ things must come to an end. Note the sarcasm. Anyways, enough is enough.

So I stood my ground.

"I can't take it anymore," I croaked through my soggy face.

But of course, Sasha was reaching out to push me next, and when I didn't come, she tipped over and fell.

Hard.

* * *

><p>Have you ever heard a hundred-something pound girl fall flat on her face on a linoleum tile floor? And then chase someone?<p>

Maybe.

Have you ever seen a skinny bookworm run like the dickens?

Quite possibly.

Have you ever seen it occur at the same time?

No.

Well, imagine this, a plump girl falling and cursing at a skinny bookworm, the bookworm running like the dickens, _and _a majority of the hall inhabitants screaming the following:

"Get her!"

"Stop it! That isn't funny!"

"Sasha, leave her alone! She didn't do anything!"

At least most of them were in my favor. So I ran. And I ran. I ran over a hat, a shoe, possibly a mouse or two.

And I ran straight into Ms. Viina.

"Grace! Sasha! Principal's office, now! The rest of you lot, back to class!"

Huh. I'd been wondering where the teachers had been during all this.

* * *

><p>I glared at the thick slip of paper in my hand. It was a suspension notice, to be exact. At least Sasha received one too. I was too glum to think about this though. Plus, Mom was grilling me too hard for me to do any real thinking.<p>

"Grace Anastasia Jackson, you had better be thinking about your behavior today. C'mon Grace, you know better… picking a fight with another student? Your sister would_ never_ do this!" Mom was storming angrily up and down the carpet in the den. She was really angry too, because she looked like a red snapper and a bear decided to have a family, and the kid was my mom.

…

... Ew… did I just talk about-You know what? Just forget it.

"GRACE! LISTEN TO ME!"

Correction. A red snapper and a _mother_ bear. Now that's angry.

Wait a minute… did she say _sister_? Is she comparing _me_ to that_ lowlife_?  
>The game is on Ma.<p>

"Don't talk to _me _about _her_! I already know how _wonderful_ Zoey is! It's always Zoey-this, Zoey-that, 'Grace, why can't you be more like Zoey?' Well I'm not Zoey so stop comparing me to her! I don't care about how great Zoey is! In fact, I don't even regard her as my sister anymore, so stick that in your juice box and suck it, you over obsessive jerk!" I spat back at Mom.

… What the heck did I just screwing say to my mom?  
>… I'm so dead.<p>

Before Mom could process what came out of my mouth I added something else to my ranting. "You know… you should ask Zoey about the fight. She saw _everything_. She was standing right there _and_ she didn't help me out. I'm not the only one at fault here, Mother," I splashed in the 'Mother' part for assurance. She absolutely adores it when I call her that. Also, if I get in trouble Zoey should too. Plus, I _had_ to get her back for not helping me out. After all, sisterhood _is _the most important thing.

Mom gaped at me for a moment before retaining her composure. She called down Zoey and told me I was grounded until she said so. Whatever, it's not like I have more important things to do anyways. I brushed past Zoey as I went up the stairs. She shot me an apologetic look; I replied with a malicious grin.

I continued up the stairs until I heard something that made me stop in my tracks and reevaluate my hearing.

"I'm worried about your sister. Please keep an eye on her for me. I hope she isn't following after Timothy… You know they were so close. I can't have the same thing happen to her."

Timothy.

Merciful Heavens above, what have I done?

* * *

><p>I never really did explain Timothy or my unnatural hatefulness for Zoey, have I?<p>

I'm standing outside Timothy's bedroom door as I explain this. It's quiet inside, so I think he's sleeping, but I'm not really sure. He's always quiet now.

I'm not going to start with a flashback, well not really. I don't really know where it all began in the first place. I'll begin where I think it started.

It was the first day of school last year. I loved Zoey like a sister, unlike now. Timothy was bubbly, extremely unlike now.

That was our first year in middle school; Timothy's last. I still remember what we were talking about: Mom's special blue pancakes. Timothy was explaining for what must've been the hundredth time why we eat blue food.

"See, when Dad was a kid, Nana used to make blue food for him on special occasions. It's a good luck charm, I think,"

"Nuh-uh Timmy! Momma said that Nana did it to prove you could make blue food! Also, you can't eat a charm… it's more like a-a wish!"

"Maybe it's both!"

That's how it went. We were debating cheerily back and forth about what the pancakes really meant. Zoey and I didn't realize our lives would soon be flipped up and over.

Now that I think about it, Timothy's smile looked kind of stiff that day, and his eyes kept darting back and forth, like he was searching for something.

… Or he was on lookout.

That night, my sweet older brother, had a nightmare. He woke up screaming about red eyes and bat wings. Mom and Dad shushed him before I could hear more. I was a little worried about him, but I thought it was just because of the movie we watched earlier. It was creepy and it _did_ have _bats_ with _red eyes._

Timothy gradually became more quiet and secluded. One day he just openly refused to come out his room to visit Nana. Dad was upset, but Mom let him stay home. They thought he was still sore about his nightmare. Now he only comes out to go to school. I remember when I caught him coming home from school once. I'll never forget what he said when I asked him why he locks himself in his room all day.

"Because I want to protect you, Grace."

I still wonder what he meant. Protect me from what?

You must be wondering how Zoey fits into this. She doesn't, which is the whole problem. She kept saying it was just a phase; that he'd get over it. Always acting like she had something more important than her own brother.

That isn't even the gist of it.

"Maybe we should send him to a therapist, or a psychiatrist. All his depression is affecting my grades. I can't think straight with Timmy like this."

_Now_, you understand.

Zoey's head is full of shit. Zoey is shit. Zoey is horrid. Zoey is terrible, and horrible, and jacked up and-and-and…

And Mom and Dad took her advice too.

So now my brother is a depressed, delusional, lovable freak.

_I_ still love him, at least.

* * *

><p>I'm just confused and I want to help him.<br>It's not fair.  
>Why my brother?<br>Why me?  
>Does the universe hate me, or is it a message?<br>And above all… what does it mean?  
>And how can I help?<br>I guess this is just the problem with siblings; you can't help but lookout for them.

* * *

><p>Yup! This is it! I sure am a slow writer. I'll just go ahead and explain this. This story is a novella, which is smaller than a novel, but bigger than a one-shot. So it should simmer out at about 13 chapters or so. All the chapters will be in Grace's POV too. Tell me what you think! I love reviews as much as I love the Bubble Nebula (Which is a lot for me.)! I'll update about once or twice a week. I really hope you like it because my hands are frozen, my friends are gonna be mad at me because I didn't draw their Hello Kitties, and Mom will kill me if she finds out I haven't finished my homework… Oh well XD!<br>Lots of loooove!

_~Chi Kookies (::)_


	2. Green Eyes and Butterfly Wings

Hello, everyone! Thanks in advance for reading this chapter; it means a lot to me. I wrote this at the last minute. I hope it doesn't become a habit. Like how I still haven't finished my homework.  
>Special thanks to: <span><strong>ArtyPixelGirl1<strong>**, ****AutobotCopperShadow**, and **Sam**! You all rock!

That's enough out of me, just enjoy the story and tell me what you think!

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><p><em>Chapter Two<em>

** Green Eyes and Butterfly Wings  
><strong>

* * *

><p><em><strong> "Be yourself; everyone else is already taken." <strong>_

_**~Oscar Wilde**_

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><p>"I know this is my punishment, but can't I wash the car, or mow the lawn? I hate doing the dishes!" I protested, stamping my foot on the tiled kitchen floor.<p>

"You should've thought about that before you got yourself self in this mess! Now _clean the dishes!_" Mom retorted. She turned herself on her heel and proceeded to walk down the stairs to her office in the basement.

I sighed heavily and turned to face the sink. My gloved hands gingerly picked up a sloppy-looking plate and placed it under the running water.

Hey again, I hope you've been faring better than me. It's the second day of my three-day suspension, and Ma's just _racking_ her brain to think of crap she wants me to do. I just want to go _outside, _but she won't let me. Don't most parents want their kids to get fresh air? Mom can be such a tyrant.

The only good thing about this suspension is that I see Timothy and Dad more, Zoey less. Mom forces me up at six to do her dirty work. By that time Zoey is gone, I can greet Dad at breakfast, and Timothy is about to head out the door. Speaking of Timothy, we… communicate more, I think. He smiles at me before he leaves, so that's something. Same ol' sweet Timothy. Dad noogies me before he leaves and tells me not to give Mom too much heck; I tell him I can't keep any promises.

Dad isn't really that bad about my being suspended. When I came home that day, he talked to me about when he was a kid, and how he got expelled from schools all over the state. I must say that took me off guard. Ma and Dad don't talk about their childhood much, and when they do, they get this sad, wistful look in their eyes. We siblings assumed that they had gone through a great deal and let didn't ask questions.  
>The worst I've ever seen him is when PJ said something dirty… I'm not going to elaborate much. Let's just say PJ will never, <em>ever<em>, turn gay.

"Grace! I'm giving you an hour to finish the dishes, so chop-chop!" Mom shouted up from the basement. I rolled my eyes and assured her I was doing my job. Is my mom a physic or something?

"Jeez… How come it seems this family has _more_ dirty dishes after PJ moved?" I was sweating and keeping my face away from the mushy, grotesque looks of the unfinished food. I know I already said this before, but I really hate dishes. Just the thought of touching someone else's food makes me want to gag. That's also why I'm so skinny. Mom gives me money to buy school food, but that 'food' looks and smells like manure. I don't even want to think about the taste. I use the money Ma gives me to buy candy and hairpins, since she doesn't give me an allowance when I do my chores. I went on strike about that once… with Zoey. But that was a long time ago.

_Almost done, _I thought blandly and picked up a silver, gunk-filled spoon. The satisfaction of almost being finished made a smile appear on my face. I moved my other hand forward to scrub it, when my movements were cut short by an irritating mechanical voice.

_Ring-ring-ring! Pick up the pho-one!_

_Ring-ring-ring! Pick up the pho-one!_

"Grace, pick it up for me, dear. It's PJ and my hands aren't free at the moment." Ma's irritated voice shouted up to me once more. The ringing probably wacked-up her focus. I let an over-exaggerated sigh escape from my lips, and picked up the phone.

"Hello? What the hell you want, playerboy?" I spoke into the phone.

"_Why so angry lil sis? You wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning? Anyways I called 'cause I heard that you got sus-pen-deeed!" _ PJ answered in a sing-songy tone.

I stuck my tongue out at him, even though he couldn't see it."Did you call just to annoy me, or do you actually need something?"

"_Actually, can you put Mom on the phone? I need to review something with her."_

"Can't you fax it or something? Ma is busy right now, that's why I answered this stupid phone in the first place."

"_I wish, but it costs __**money**__ to fax crap at this cheapskate library, so I'll call back later. Buh-bye wittle sister!" _PJ said and with that, he hung up, leaving me to my disgusting spoon.

I rolled my eyes and put the phone down. He is such a girly boy; what is so turn-on-ish about him? I plopped down on the couch. I was feeling too lazy to even finish my stupid spoon.

"GRACE! I DON'T HEAR THE FAUCET RUNNING!"

* * *

><p>"Mercy me…" I groaned into my pillow. I finished the dishes, mowed the lawn, <em>and <em>weeded the garden. At least Mom let me go outside. I think she softened up after I weeded the garden and said I could take the rest of the day off.

"Imma just use the rest of the day to _sleep,_" I closed my eyes and pulled my comforter up to my chin and snuggled into it.

…

…

…

"_Mm, where am I?" I opened my eyes. Something was off. I looked around. I was standing in a meadow full of flowers and butterflies. The grass tickled my bare feet. I looked down and yelped so hard I fell over. I was wearing a racy white dress and my hair had been done in a curled bunches. I felt like a princess._

"_Maybe my middle name __**does**__ suit me," I breathed, my mind unable to really process what was happening, "This must be one of those lucid dreams. I wonder, maybe I can control it?"_

_I shut my eyes tight and imagined the field covered in snow. I opened my eyes and gasped in disappointment: no snow. "Stupid dream," I huffed and walked through the meadow impassively. I mean, you guys know me, butterflies are pretty and all, but this is all too girly for me. "This dream musta been for Zoey or something." My face went south at the thought of her._

"_No, rest assured this dream is for you."_

"_SHIT!" I screeched and fell on my bum. I __**did not **__expect to be answered. I looked up towards an old guy sitting in the shore of a lake. How the hell a lake get here? I was just standing in the middle of a girly-barf meadow! I kept my eyes on him and stood up._

"_Now, now, language. Hasn't Percy and Annabeth taught you that cursing isn't good for a girl your age?" The old guy's words were firm, but his sea green eyes held a sort of laughing twinkle._

… _Wait a minute, how does this old fart know my parents' names?_

_I drew my arms around me protectively and eyed him suspiciously.  
>"Who are you? And how do you know my parents' names? And-" The old guy cut me short by waving his hand nonchalantly.<em>

"_Now dear, I haven't much time here, but I must warn you. Do not take Phobetor's and The Algea's tantrums to heart." _

_I stepped back, startled by what I saw. The old fart was disappearing and the sun ominously hid behind the clouds._

"_One more thing, Grace. It is rude to refer to your grandfather as an 'old fart'." The old man vanished and the meadow was encased in darkness._

_Hell nah… that man is my old man's old man? And he can read my thoughts? Obviously, I didn't really comprehend this, or else I would've __**reaaally**__ been freaking out._

_I wish I had time to freak out._

_When the sun disappeared, so did the butterflies and flowers. The snow I'd been wishing for started to form on the ground, giving the whole place a kind of cold, demonic aura. How ironic. _

_"I will never take girly junk for granted again. Ever." I murmured miserably, rubbing myself up and down. It was freezing in this frozen wasteland._

_And then I saw it._

_Bats._

_With red eyes._

_Sound familiar? Sadly so, I found myself surrounded by hundreds-no, __**thousands**__ of silver-fanged bats. They didn't do anything but smile like the Cheshire cat, which might've been a good thing, because I was too scared and frozen to move. I held my breath._

_Suddenly, the bats lunged in a flurry of glowing eyes, pointed wings, and sharp teeth._

_So, so sharp teeth._

_A couple of hellish bats sank their fangs into me, while others scratched at my bare skin. Some yanked and ripped my shiny hair into tattered strands of color. My once prettied figure turned into a form of dark, dirtied pain. I remember crying for Mom and Dad to help. I was screaming for __**anyone**__ to help, to make the torment stop._

_And then, the darkness lifted, turning into a throbbing white._

* * *

><p>"Grace, are you sure you're okay? I'll get you more tea. Don't move from that spot." Mom had a worried (and slightly frightened) expression etched on her face. I sat shivering on the couch, wrapped up in an electric blanket and ice-pack on my head.<p>

I actually looked kind of funny, in a twisted sort of way.

Ma had rocketed up the stairs when she had heard me screaming and crying. When she shook me awake and asked me what was wrong, I told her the truth:

"I had one of those crazy dreams when you know you're dreaming, and I looked all pretty and stuff, like a princess. I was standing in a field with butterflies and flowers, and when I kept walking I found this lake that came outta nowhere. There was this old guy sitting on the shore and he know your and Dad's names. Then he vanished. Then the sun, like, vanished too, and then the meadow turned all frozen and cold and scary… I got attacked by bats, Mom."

Mom's eyes were wide and disbelieving.  
>I should've lied. I should've lied. I should've lied.<p>

Period.

I wondered how she would've reacted if I had told her that old man was my grandfather and the names Phobetor and The Algea. She'd probably flip out.

Like, totally.

* * *

><p>The steam from my sixth hot cup of tea tickled my nose. I wanted to smile because of it, but the scene was too dreary. Mom, Dad, Zoey, and even Timothy were surrounding me, listening to me retell my frightening night terror in more detail. PJ was listening on Skype and Nana was on speaker-phone. Did the whole family want to embarrass me by knowing about this frick-a-frackin' dream?<p>

Everyone had this monotone sort of demeanor. Nana sounded teary and Mom's eyes were red. PJ and Dad were pale. Zoey had a plastered on a face of worriment. Durned faker. Except Timothy; he'd nod his head furiously when I said something he saw in his own nightmare. When I finished, Dad chuckled cynically into his hands. "Well, your mother and I will discuss this later. _At least_ we know you and Timothy aren't crazy, eh?"

With those words, this little family meeting diminished in seconds, until the only people left in the den were Timothy, Zoey, and I.

And all too soon, they lunged at me.

And encapsulated me in a bear-hug.

Zoey was full-out sobbing on my right shoulder. Timothy was sniffling on my left. I was crying too, but those tears were different. They were tears of joy.

"I'msorryforbeingajerkandnothelpingyououtwhenSashabulliedyou," Zoey hiccupped.

I didn't answer, but I smiled at her.

_Maybe I was wrong. Zoey isn't a jerk. I was wrong for thinking of her like that._

Timothy stayed quiet the whole time, albeit sniffling occasionally, but I could feel his smile on my shoulder.

Have I told you how much I love my dysfunctional family? I don't remember how or when, but I fell asleep peacefully that night.

* * *

><p>"PJ, you jerk! How could you dump a girl like that! Ohmigosh, you said <em>that<em>? If Dad heard you right now..!" I was giggling into my cellphone, generally having a good time.

Dad swiveled around from the steering wheel, his face bloated with the pretzel he was eating. "PJshaay shaid whath abouth a gurl?!"

Zoey struggled to keep her laughter in and Timothy snorted. Ma was snickering into her hands. I bit my tongue down to keep myself from saying something stupid.

"N-Nothing, Dad, PJ was just telling me about this… uh… project he did with a girl. Right guys?" I turned to Zoey and Timothy and they nodded confidently, even though what I said was a straight-up lie. We kids were huddling together, listening to PJ go on about campus life. This boy really could catch any girl.

"_You wouldn't believe how clingy she was! She dressed like a slu- I mean, diva, too! I'm only dated her because of a bet. Guess what? She even knew about the bet, and she __**still**__ went out with me. I'm never playing spin-the-bottle with Joey in the same room again. I must say though, Chicago girls are __**fun**__, if you know what I mean."_

Why am I getting The Talk all over again?

Zoey yelled at him for being a perv, Timothy went bright red, and Dad jerked the car to the side and gave PJ a speech about self-respect and not playing women.

What about me you say? Ma and I were laughing too hard to hear the curse words come out of other drivers' mouths when Dad jerked the car. New Yorkers can cuss in the most colorful of ways.

The family was packed into our car, moving towards a mall. Dad thought it would be a good thing for everyone to get some fresh air. Nana and Grandpa were already waiting for us in the food court.

"Well, PJ, I'll talk to you later!" I shouted over Dad's ranting, hoping he'd get the message to hang up.

"PJ! PATRICK JAMES LUKE JACKSON! DON'T HANG UP ON ME! I AM YOUR FATHER!"

He got the message.

* * *

><p>"I feel uncomfortable in this! Can I get the other one? Please?" I whined. Zoey and I were standing in matching blue-bowed dresses. Mom said we looked precious; Zoey replied by saying we looked like clowns.<p>

Timothy and Dad were in some guy sweatshop or something like that. I was a little worried for him. Even though Timothy isn't a PJ, he _has_ been chased before. I will admit this: When girls want something, they _want_ it.

Zoey and I managed to convince Ma to buy the skirts we wanted instead of those butt-ugly dresses. I hugged the plastic bag tightly and looked to Zoey.

_This feels like… the old days. I think I like this._

"Okay girls, one more stop until we meet the boys at the theater. Where are we going to next?"

"Hmm… You cool with going to Glitters, Grace? I just _have to_ get a new bracelet!" Zoey exclaimed, waving her arms wildly to accompany her proposition.

"Alright! I was meaning to get a new hairpin anyways," I agreed and ran off in that direction with Zoey close behind.

"GIRLS! Wait! No running!"

* * *

><p>I picked up a faux jade bracelet and handed it to Zoey. She shook her head and kept her eyes locked on a red-stoned feather bracelet. I sighed and put the piece of jewelry back down.<p>

"You can't get that one! It's too expensive, Mom says."

"I know, but it's so pretty… how about we pool our money together and buy it?" She put on her best puppy-dog eyes and stuck out her lower lip. I opened my mouth to say no, when a certain… someone caught my eye. An idea popped into my head and a blush bloomed onto my cheeks.

"Alright, you can have my _entire_ budget money if you don't interfere in what I'm going to do next." I responded cheerily.

"What are you about to do..? Grace, if this is gonna get me in trouble somehow, you can keep your money." My sister looked me over and gave me a  
>'you-had-better-not' look. I shook my head honestly and jabbed my money over to her.<p>

Now, to explain what was going to go on next. The person I was eyeing earlier was Damien Stroud, seventh grade hottie. Damien and I have been friends since fourth grade. Zoey has had crush on him since before the beginning of time. What I never told her was that Damien and I kissed in fifth grade, and he was _smitten_ with me afterwards. The kiss itself was a misunderstanding; I was going for Alex Foster. I resolved all that later, but I'm pretty sure he still liked me, even if he did go out with other girls and such. Actually, Damien is pretty good looking, if you ask me. He has these fierce, brooding amber eyes, and the cutest sparkly black hair… Whoa! I'd better not get carried away. I'm trying to catch him for Zoey, not me.

_Why I even give her my money? I'm doing her a favor, dang it! They had better realize that they're meant for each other after this!_

I brushed my outfit off and put on a flirty aura.

"Hi, Damiiien! How are ya?" I said to his back. The boy in question jumped and turned around to face me, and so did his two other friends; Lucifer Turner and Alex Foster. My face raised a degree or two. Before you ask, yes, I still have a crush on Alex.

_Dang it! I didn't see him… Oh sister, why oh why?_

"Uh… Can I talk to you alone for sec? It's kinda important." I said awkwardly, trying not to look at Alex. Damien frowned at me and shrugged, but agreed nonetheless. As we turned away, Lucifer and Alex wolf-whistled.

_Boys… They can be soooo dumb. But I don't blame them, this is pretty incriminating, I guess._

After we were at a safe distance, I faced Damien. His face was bright red. Evidently, the reason the boys are so dumb is because they all share the same brain. I rolled my eyes and began to explain.

"Look, you know my sister, Zoey, right?"

He nodded

"She likes you, but she's too sca- nervous, to tell you herself. I'm pretty sure she _like _likes you. And I kno-o-o-w you feel the same!"

Best way to get a guy to do what you want: put thoughts in his head. That way, they don't have to think, which is their favorite activity.

Damien's eyes widened and his blush deepened. "I-I'll talk to her… I didn't know she liked me. Do you think she'll go to the Winter Social with me?"

It was my turn to nod. "Well, see ya later, Day-meee-an!" I walked back towards Glitters to inform Zoey. As the great _whoever_ said "A women that likes you is more attractive than a women who doesn't even know you're alive." I was feeling like a sister to Zoey again. Maybe I'll forgive her.

And then I was kidnapped. Someone had grabbed me and put their hand over my mouth to keep me shut.

"MMMPH!" I bit down on my kidnapper's hand. The kidnapper screeched and let me go. "Ow! Why'd you bite me?"

I spun around. The 'kidnapper' was Zoey, and she was currently sucking on her thumb. When she noticed my glaring, she gave one of her own.

"Why were you talkin' to Damien? You know I like him! I thought you liked Alex, you man-stealer!"

"I was trying to set you up with him, you ungrateful brat! And where do you get off tryna kidnap me?"

Forget trying to be civil with her. _I_ gave her my money, so _I _could keep her occupied, while _I_ tried to set her up with her crush. I had half a mind to go back to Damien and tell him it was all a hoax. In fact, I'll play cold shoulder with her again. Then we'll see who'll be nice to _whom,_ little wannabe diva!

Zoey and I bickered for a while (I was winning), until Mom and Dad came storming up to us. I _think _they did, at least. I didn't notice them until I got my ear boxed.

"That's it! No movie! We are going home!"

* * *

><p>The car was filled with an atmosphere so thick, you could cut it. Ma and Dad were so <em>exasperated <em>with us, that they didn't even bother to give a give a lecture and junk. I ran up the stairs to my bed and stuffed my head into my fuzzy pillows. My lousy sister was fuddling around in our shared closet.

I loathe Zoey. _Again._

I know it looks like_ I_ overreacted. But, c'mon, how would you have reacted? Especially since I _just _made up with her after months of me hating her guts. Now, giving her the cold shoulder didn't seem like much. How else could I get her back..?

I know. I'll steal Damien away from her. If I can give something, I can take it back too. Plus, the relationship might make Alex jealous, so then I could dump him and get a _real_ boyfriend. All this drama could make me popular, lower Zoey on the climb of popularity,_ and_ I'd stop getting bullied

Perfect.

* * *

><p>So tired. This came out much later than I wanted it to be. Anyways, this story is rated T for cursing and dark (ish) themes. I wanted to put that in the summary, but "Oh well!" At least I kept my promise! Until next time, <strong><em><span>REVIEW<span>_** for me! I want to know what you guys thought! Good night!

_~Chi Kookies (::)_


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